


You Can’t Always Get What You Want (but if you make an Effort you never know what might happen)

by thornfield_girl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Be-bop, Bickering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Massage, Oops, Well just one, accidentally, in that order, maybe a bit ass backwards but what else would you expect, now with plot!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 06:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: If you try, sometimes you get what you need.





	1. Chapter 1

They were almost, but not quite, spectacularly drunk. 

They’d stayed relatively sober--or at least just on the other side of tipsy--for months after the trials, slightly paranoid that their former employers might figure out their ruse and come after them again. Crowley had begun to visit Aziraphale at the bookstore every evening, insisting they practice shifting into one another’s corporal form, over and over and over again until they could do it seamlessly in a split second, in case one of them ever noticed a shift in the atmosphere or spotted angel or demon in a crowd. Aziraphale couldn’t deny it was a prudent measure, and if he was honest--and he tried to be honest, at least when pressed--he was happy for the excuse to see Crowley. And in the interest of total transparency (though only to himself and God alone and Herself forbid he ever said such a thing out loud) the feeling of becoming Crowley, of inhabiting his body, was a thrilling, though slightly uncomfortable experience. 

Despite their understandable caution, their true desires could not be forever denied. Though Crowley didn’t share Aziraphale’s love of food, and Aziraphale had never caught on to the pleasures of sleep, neither of them could resist an excellent bottle of wine or four. So when a case of an outrageously expensive Chambertin Grand Cru is miraculously included in a book shipment, Aziraphale wasted no time setting out two glasses in preparation for Crowley’s arrival. The grin on the demon’s fine, foul face when he caught sight of them did not disappoint. 

They’d reached the point in their drunkenness where truth telling begins to set in, and that’s always a dangerous time. It’s a point where coherent thought can still be formed, but the urge for self-protection is diminished almost entirely. From there, the balance of the evening could shift in almost any direction, dependent on mercurial changes in mood, both of them completely unaware of how they affected each other’s behavior in any given moment. They’d been together, yet not together, for so long that neither understood just how deeply intertwined their very natures had become. 

“D’you know, Angel, how absolutely, infernally _infuriating_ you can be sometimes?” Crowley drained his glass and fumbled for the bottle. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. He was beginning to get an inkling of where this evening might be headed. “Well, I suppose so, dear. You’ve certainly lost no opportunities to let me know about it. Like when I called your Velvet Underworld ‘be-bop,’ for instance. You were quite incensed about that one, as I recall.” He stifled the grin that threatened to force its way onto his face. Apparently, at some point, he’d decided he was all in for one of Crowley’s rants at that particular time.

Crowley shook his head almost violently. “Velvet _Underground_, for somebody’s sake. Well, Satan’s I suppose. No chance Lou made it upstairs. And no, that’s not infuriating, it’s simply irritating. And frustrating. Honestly, Aziraphale. We both lived through the fifties and the sixties and the sev’nties.” Halfway through his next glass already, he’d begun to slur his words a bit. “I know you know what rock music is, you stubborn creature. We were both at Woodstock.”

A beatific smile shone on Aziraphale’s face. “Wasn’t it lovely? All those beautiful, naked young people communing and loving themselves and each other. And shame on you, by the way, for that brown LSD. Drug trips can be so illuminating for humans, especially in the proper environment, but no, you had to make them see… What did you make them see, anyway? I don’t recall asking.” 

“Demons,” Crowley said, smirking. “What else?” 

“Anyway, on balance it was a positive. I’m sure you enjoyed all the live music.” 

“It was all right. I preferred Altamont, m’self.” 

Aziraphale huffed. “You did not, you absolute liar. You spent half the time mocking the Hell’s Angels--” 

“Poseurs.” 

“And you were crushed when those people were killed. I know you were, and don’t bother to deny it. You haven’t been back to America since.” 

Crowley’s head fell, and he let out a big sigh. “Yeah...but before that, the Rolling Stones…” He laughed, but it came out as a sloppy snort. “They were magnificent back then. At that very moment in time. Weren’t they?” 

“I’m afraid it’s not to my taste, dear. Though Mick Jagger had a certain…” Aziraphale blushed and clamped his mouth shut. 

Crowley grinned and said, “He certainly did. And Keith, well. Full of stamina, him. For awhile I wondered if he was one of ours and I just didn’t know it. But he aged, didn’t he, so he must be human. I can’t imagine how he’s still kicking around. Though, no doubt, he’ll be down there soon enough. Poor lad.” 

Aziraphale nodded somberly, and then lifted a glass. “To free will.” 

Crowley lifted his glass, which contained barely more than a coating of wine by then. “Free will,” he agreed. 

After a sip from his glass, Aziraphale cleared his throat. “But, to return to the original topic, if that’s not what you meant by infuriating, what exactly were you referring to?” 

“Ahhh,” Crowley said, waving his hand in the air. “Never mind. You’re all right, Angel.” 

“No, no. You clearly wanted to tell me, and now I want to know. If I can avoid infuriating you, I’d be happy to try.” 

“Iss just, you know, your whole…” Crowley gestured broadly, glass in hand, which Aziraphale interpreted as a request for a refill. 

“Here you are, dear.” He smiled as he poured. 

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You want to see me get all worked up for some reason.” 

“I do enjoy it from time to time. It can be exhilarating, if you want to know the truth. You put all this energy into the air, you know. It...well, it tingles. It’s lovely.” 

“I make you _tingle_?” Crowley’s face was a perfect blend of astonishment and outrage. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. This is what you do. You say these things, and you look at me with these...fucking…_looks_, and what am I supposed to do with that? What am I supposed to think? And then you--you--you--”

“I what?” Aziraphale asked indignantly. 

“You reject me.” 

“I have never--” 

“You _have._ So many times.” Crowley ripped the sunglasses from his eyes. “You’ve denied being my friend, you’ve dismissed our relationship as ‘fraternising,’ you’ve gotten up on your moral high horse every time I’ve suggested cooperating on anything. I asked you twice to run away with me, and _twice_ you looked at me as if I’d suggested you drop your pants and let me bugger you senseless.” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows arched and his eyes widened. “I beg your pardon.” 

“Which was one hundred percent not what I was suggesting, by the way. I only wanted us to be safe. I only wanted to spend time with you. But you couldn’t even stand the thought of it, could you? Me and only me for the rest of time, no, that would never do, would it?” 

“No,” Aziraphale said. “No, it wouldn’t, not for either of us. I love humanity, Crowley, and the Earth, and all creatures upon it, great and small. And so do you.” They stared at each other for a few seconds. “But I love you more than all of that, and you must know that by now. Don’t you?” 

Crowley shook his head. “You act as if you do, sometimes, but when push comes to shove you always, always pull back.” 

“And you always push forward.” Aziraphale struggled to his feet, a bit unsteady, and walked over to the couch where Crowley was sprawled. “Make room, dear.” 

Crowley slid his feet onto the floor and shifted to a somewhat more upright position. “I know I push. Incorrigible demon that I am, as you never tire of reminding me. Not that I need reminders.”

Aziraphale settled himself on the cushion next to him. “Does that really bother you? I rather thought you liked it. I assumed you enjoyed the paradoxical nature of our friendship as much as I have.”

“You what? Now who’s the liar? Every time you remember what I am, and what you are, you shut down. I _assumed_ that’s what all the jokes were about.”

Aziaphale’s face fell. “My dear, I am terribly sorry. I’ve been hurting you in that way for all this time and had no idea. The jokes...that was me trying to let you know how little it really bothered me. Yes, from time to time I—but on the whole, I thought it was grand.”

“Until it got real.”

“Crowley, it’s real _now_, isn’t it? Everything feels so much more real than it ever has. And I’m telling you, the fact of how you came to be means nothing to me anymore. It hasn’t done for such a very long time. That you were once an angel, that you Fell, it’s irrelevant in the face of who you actually are. If I rested on that old dynamic at times, if I used it to shield myself from my fears, well I can’t deny that I did that. And I’m so sorry for it. But in the end, I came through for you, didn’t I? And you for me, so spectacularly.” He rested his hand on Crowley’s thigh. “You mentioned the way I look at you. I can’t hide anything with my face. Do you honestly think those have been lies?”

Crowley shook his head. “No, I never thought they were lies. That’s what was so infuriating, do you see?”

“Yes, I think I understand. But what...Well, what do you want from me that you’re not getting? We’re not humans. We don’t have a natural inclination toward the carnal. Or, do you? Perhaps that changed for you.”

“Don’t try to shame me, Angel. You’re the one who wanted to shag Mick Jagger.”

“I never said that.”

Crowley snorted. “It’s not carnal, anyway. Not—not exactly. Though, that is one way to express love, and a perfectly valid one. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“Closeness. You never let me get close enough.”

“I’m close now,” Aziraphale said, his voice going quiet. “So close I’m touching you, in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s almost as if you’ve failed to notice how things have changed since everything happened. How I’ve changed. I don’t know how, though. I’ve noticed it in you.”

“I haven’t changed. Same old fallen angel. Same old Crawly.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. “I was so glad when you changed that. You’ve never crawled, not as long as I’ve known you. Slithered a bit, maybe. Sauntered, obviously. But never crawled, not at my feet, and not at the feet of the Lord of Flies or even Satan himself.”

“Almost did. Until you threatened to abandon me.” 

“A lie of expediency.” Aziraphale reached down and lifted Crowley’s legs onto his lap. “Lie back, dear.” 

Crowley obeyed without a single idea of why he was being asked to do so, and not a care in Heaven or Hell, either. The Angel was clearly trying to show him something, and it’s all he’d wanted for so long. He reclined on the armrest of the sofa and watched as Aziraphale pulled the short boots from his feet, and the silken socks he wore under them. Soft fingers began to knead the sensitive muscles in his arches, bending the toes this way and that, sliding over the skin of his ankles. Eventually he let his eyes drift closed as those hands worked their way up his legs, over the snug jeans, massaging as they went. 

“Do you mind if I remove your dungarees, dear? Only it’ll be more satisfying if it’s skin on skin, don’t you agree?” 

“My--” 

“Yes, yes, I know. May I?” 

“You never have to ask, Angel.” 

He was suddenly down to his pants, which were, of course, also silk. A creature of luxury as much as Aziraphale, if in discrete ways. He closed his eyes again and let the sensations take over. He had no idea how long this went on, and he wasn’t about to stop him, even when he felt fingers slid under the bottoms of his boxer briefs. 

“Oh!” 

Crowley opened his eyes. “Hands getting crampy? You can stop if you like. Wasn’t expecting an angelic massage at all.” 

“Hm? Oh. No. It’s not that. It’s, um. Well, you seem to have made an Effort, I see.” 

Crowley hadn’t, in fact, made an Effort. Not a conscious one at any rate. “Sorry,” he said. “Unintentional. I think I can make it go away. Only, I may need to sober up first. Or you can just ignore it.” 

“Well...it’s only a body part, after all. I’m almost there, anyway. I’ll just carry on, shall I?” 

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, but he licked his lips and said, “Whatever you think,” before closing his eyes again. 

He felt a cool breeze where his undershorts had been a moment earlier, and those beautiful, surprisingly strong fingers began to inch their way up and then slipped between his thighs to rub the taut muscles there. He miracled away the ticklishness that threatened to make him kick out, but didn’t manage to avoid a gasp when he felt knuckles brush against his pointless balls and then slide up to tentatively stroke the shaft of the member which apparently had a mind of its very own. He kept his eyes shut tightly, afraid he might abruptly wake to find himself alone in his bed, sticky as a human teenaged boy.

It wasn’t as if he’d never experienced sexual pleasure, but it had been several centuries, and had never been in any way connected to the sort of feeling he had for Aziraphale. It had been no more than curiosity, of the same sort as when he’d tried oysters for the first time, or gone bowling. The point being, he’d never had a reason to build up any sort of longevity, or--

“Oh God--Satan--ahhhh, fuck.” He opened his eyes to see Aziraphale staring in a sort of shock at what had transpired. Feeling humiliated, he waved a hand at the mess and miracled his clothing back on. He’d been almost in a trance-like state since the angel had told him to lie down, and now he’d come back to himself with an almost painful clarity as he sat up straight. “I--I’m so sorry, Angel. I don’t know what came over me. I thought, I swear, I thought it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t like that. I never meant--”

“Crowley, stop. Please. You needn’t feel ashamed. You have a human body, and human bodies feel pleasure when touched. I knew that when I started. I even wondered if it might happen.” 

“You did?” 

“Well, I sort of...hoped it might. I never--that is, I was a bit curious, and I thought you would look beautiful in the throes of it. And you did. So beautiful.” 

“I love you so much, Angel. Infuriatingly, incorrigibly, nonsensically, truly, madly, deeply--” 

“Oh, I enjoyed that film.” 

“Eternally.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Yes, my dear. Eternally.” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes, I rather think you ought. We may have inadvertently got some things a bit backwards.” 

Crowley swung around to face him, straddling his lap and leaning into his wonderful, soft, perfect body. He lowered his lips to touch Aziraphale’s, and they too were impossibly soft, impossibly perfect, impossibly fucking wonderful. Aziraphale’s hand came up and dove into his hair, pulling him tighter. As close as he could get them. Crowley felt tears sting the corners of his eyes, because finally. _Finally_. 

When they broke apart, Crowley stayed close and stroked Aziraphale’s cheek with his thumb, as softly as he could manage. “Can I sleep here tonight?” 

“You can sleep here tonight and every night for the rest of time, if you like. Or wherever I am, if that’s your desire. I’ll even join you for a few hours. But it occurs to me that we would do well to sober up beforehand, to avoid hangovers. Do you think that’ll be all right? We won’t have regrets over this, will we?” 

“Not a chance on my end.” 

“No, nor mine. Excellent.” 

They expelled the alcohol from their bodies and headed up the stairs to Aziraphale’s seldom used bedroom. Just as they were sliding under the luxurious sheets, Aziraphale gave a soft, “Huh.” 

“Wha’?” Crowley mumbled, already heading towards sleep (a process he’d been perfecting for over a thousand years). 

“It was you, wasn’t it? You sent that wine. You set this all up.” 

“I may have gotten it started, Angel, but you’re the one who miracled my pants off, so don’t even try to put this all on me.” 

“You could have just told me, you know. You didn’t have to ply me with French wine. Not that it was unwelcome, of course.” 

Crowley took his arm and pulled him down onto the pillowy mattress. “Go t’ sleep now. If we must prattle on endlessly about it, let’s do it tomorrow.” He reached around to draw his angel in, tight against his body. He’d protect him, and he’d keep him close, and he’d never let anything push them apart again. Not even the infuriating bit of a bastard himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sleeping and cuddling and taking about feelings. Things are just getting good when the phone rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this originally one shot fic need more chapters and the sudden interference of plot? Nope. But here we are. 
> 
> Comments would of course be wonderful since I’m still new to this fandom and still getting a feel for these guys. :)

_He’s so beautiful._

Aziraphale had been watching Crowley sleep for the last hour or so since waking up. Tears streamed down his face as he replayed the events of six thousand years knowing this maddening and wonderful demon, and tried to come to terms with how everything could change, be upended, from one conversation and a simple--very quick--physical act.

He had always loved Crowley and Crowley had always loved him. Why it should have made a difference that they could say it aloud, or that they might now touch one another when they pleased? He didn’t need any of that to feel Crowley’s love and devotion. He’d never needed it. So why did it feel so different now? 

Crowley’s eyes cracked open and met Aziraphale’s as they stared right back at him. “Angel?” His peaceful, sleepy expression turned to concern. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, still weeping.

“Angel,” Crowley repeated, softly but almost reprovingly. He reached out to wipe the wetness from his face. “What’s to cry about? You haven’t changed your mind about me?”

“No! Oh my dear, no. Never that.” 

Crowley smiled. “I know. Joking. Sorry.” He moved closer, offering to take Aziraphale in his arms, but holding back slightly. 

Aziraphale suddenly looked even more distressed than before. “Why do you hesitate? Why don’t you know what I want you to do?” He shifted over so Crowley could take hold of him.

“I didn’t want to push.”

After some time, Aziraphale’s tears dried, leaving him sniffling softly for a bit until he finally spoke. “I didn’t understand. All this time, I didn’t understand that you needed more from me. Even last night, even after our talk, I couldn’t see it. And then, after...the other thing happened, I could feel that things had changed, but I still didn’t know _why._.”

Crowley stiffened and spoke quickly. “I told you, I didn’t mean for that to happen. It never has to again if you don’t want to. I don’t want things to change. 

“But they _have_ And clearly they needed to, because I’ve allowed all these years to pass without making myself clear to you.” Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I’ve worked it out, finally. It’s only taken me so long because I’ve been blinded by the strength my own feelings. I’ve been feeling your love grow the whole time we’ve known each other. I even felt a glimmer of it that first day on the wall, unless I’m very much mistaken. After I told you I gave away the sword. Though I didn’t quite trust it because I...well, forgive me dear, but at the time I didn’t understand that demons were capable of it. And it wasn’t as if we knew each other yet. I wondered if it might be a remnant of your angelic nature, or perhaps something I experienced was rebounding off of you somehow. But each time we saw one another it seemed to get bigger and stronger and more, and then, right at the end, after I threatened--again, disingenuously--never to speak to you again, it sort of...exploded all over me. All this love and pain and it was terrible and glorious. But the point is that I’ve always known.” 

“What’s that got to do with our sordid little moment last night?” 

Aziraphale tsked. “It was nothing of the sort. It was beautiful because it was you and me, and therefore it can’t be anything but. Because my love for you has been growing just as long as yours for me, and it’s no less monumental. But of course, you didn’t know that, did you?” 

“I knew, Angel. Not for as long as you’ve known, but I could see it.”

“Yes, but you couldn’t _feel_ it, could you? Not until last night.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Sorry? Why on earth should you be sorry?” 

Crowley tightened his hold on Aziraphale. “I’m sorry I made you prove it to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t feel it. Sorry I’m a fucking demon and can’t comprehend love that’s pure, that’s unsullied by--by--by _bodies_. I want to be able to feel it without _feeling_ it or having it held up in front of my face all the time lest I start to doubt it, but I can’t. I can’t even remember what that was like.”

“There is nothing wrong with bodies. I quite like the one I have, and I very much like yours. That’s not to say, of course, that if you were in a different one I’d love you any less, but this one is wonderful. I _am_ sad that you don’t like the way you are, because to me you are perfect. Imperfect and perfect and...ineffably you. You are Crowley incarnate, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. I couldn’t love another angel the way I love you.” 

Crowley sighed and they were silent for a few moments. He reached up and stroked his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. “You know how girls are always falling for the bad boys? That was one of mine.” 

Aziraphale smiled for the first time since waking up. “I hate to think I was the inspiration for that. Although, if all bad boys were really kind, soft-hearted, _good_ people with a prickly, sarcastic shell, I suppose it would be all right.” 

“They’re not.” 

“No.” 

After another quiet interlude, Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbow and said, “Crowley?” 

“Yeah, Angel?” 

“Would you like me to prove my love to you again?” 

Crowley laughed and turned pink. “Not if you’re going to put it like that. You don’t have to prove anything.” 

“The thing is, and what I was trying to explain before, is that when I did that--when you were truly feeling the depth of my love--it made it somehow...more, for me as well. Or, if not more, different somehow, in a way that felt more…”

“Real?” 

“I suppose. More human, in a way, I think. More immediate? I can’t quite get the words. But I liked it. I’d like to feel it again. If you ever want to try.” 

Crowley stared at him for a moment before rolling over on top of him. “I might want to try again, but if I do, then you have to. You’ll need to make an effort.” 

“An Effort?” 

Crowley grinned down at him and nodded. He lowered himself to press his lips to Aziraphale’s. “We don’t have to do it now, in any case. I’d planned on tempting you to coffee and French pastries this morning at that new place across the street.” 

“Oh, you wicked serpent. That sounds lovely. You know me so well.” 

“Angel, I knew you the first day I met you. You told me who you were when you said you’d given the humans your weapon. And when you shielded a demon from the rain.” 

“I didn’t know you at all. But I was fascinated by you. Speaking of which, I did like the way you were wearing your hair in those days. I was somewhat disappointed when I saw you in Rome later and you’d cut it all off.” Aziraphale reached up to brush fingers through it. “Do you think you’d ever wear it long again?” 

Crowley scrunched up his face as if concentrating, and his hair spiraled out and down, lovely red curls to just below his collarbone. “Better?” 

“Absolutely gorgeous, my dear.” He reached up to touch Crowley’s cheek and one spring of hair fell across his hand. “I’d like to kiss you again.” 

“Always yes.” 

Aziraphale initiated the kiss, sinking into the depths of it. He’d never shared more than a peck on the cheek before, and he’d never understood the human fascination with it. In the early years, he’d even found it comical to see two humans connecting themselves by the mouths for no practical reason. He’d never laugh at them again, certainly. He could see destroying whole civilizations for the pleasure of these kisses.

Crowley was clearly restraining himself, tentatively stroking Aziraphale’s chest and arms. The more they kissed, and the closer they pressed against one another, the less certain Aziraphale was that they should go to breakfast first. Perhaps a bit of experimentation would make the meal even more satisfying. 

_Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle!”_  
I want to ride my bicycle  
I want to ride my bike 

Aziraphale paused and pulled back from Crowley’s mouth. “Is this some sort of message?” 

Crowley barked a laugh. “No, it’s just the ring tone I use for the witch. Ignore it. Why’s she calling me anyway? She likes you better.”

“I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable ignoring calls from the witch who helped avert the apocalypse, dear. Perhaps you should answer.” 

Crowley groaned and reached for the phone, poking at it and putting in on speaker. “I was very much in the middle of something, Anathema. This had better be--” 

“Adam has disappeared.” 

“Right.” Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other with matching expressions of, if not terror, at least grave concern. “Do you want us to come out to godforsaken Tadfield, then?” 

“I’m in London. It’s part of the story. I’ll tell you when you meet me. Where should I go? I went to Aziraphale’s book shop first, but it’s closed even though it’s after nine, and he’s not answering the store phone either.” 

“Just stay where you are. We’ll come to you.” He hung up. “FUCK! I cannot believe I’m being cock blocked by the bloody antichrist.” 

“I thought we were going to eat instead, dear.” Aziraphale looked at him with the exaggerated innocence of the wickedly guilty. 

“Yeah, right. Well now we can’t do that either.” He pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, but his socks and boots were still downstairs by the sofa. 

Aziraphale pulled on a dressing gown, and when he saw Crowley’s raised eyebrow, he said, “I’m very anxious to hear what she has to say. I’ll get dressed after we speak to her. And besides, she won’t care. She’s not that sort of American.” 

“I know she’s not that sort, but do we really need to have the conversation right this minute? We have to find Satan’s son before he gets into...whatever kind of trouble a supernatural being with control over reality can get into.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she already assumed we were together. Many people have, you know. Uriel called you my boyfriend.” 

Crowley gave him small, pleased grin. “Fine. Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema explains what happened. Crowley brags about his new boyfriend. They take some safety measures.

Aziraphale fetched everything they’d need for tea from the small back room of the shop while Crowley went to let in Anathema Device. She was standing at the shop door, looking out at the street, presumably watching for the Bentley to come screaming around the corner. So when Crowley yanked open the shop door, bells jingling angrily, she jumped and gave a little yelp. 

“You’re here!” 

“Where else would I be?” Crowley stepped aside so she could enter. “This is my boyfriend’s home, after all.” 

“Oh! Yes. That makes sense. I wasn’t sure if...but yes, of course.” She went a bit pink in the face. “You were...in the middle of something. I’m so sorry to have bothered you.” She frowned as if working something out. “I suppose I didn’t know if angels and demons...well, never mind.”

“Do the Sunday Times Crossword like everyone else? Yes, but we argue over whether to do it in blood or stardust.” 

“It’s Saturday.”

“So it is. Maybe we were doing something else, then.” He grinned ferociously at her and flopped down on a loveseat positioned across from an armchair. Miraculously, there was a small coffee table in the middle which he’d never noticed before.

“Are you wearing a wig?” Anathema asked, frowning at his hair. 

Crowley put a hand up to his hair and smiled, deciding whether to further her discomfort or not, when he was interrupted.

“Tea is ready!” Aziraphale announced, bustling in. “Well, almost.” He waved a hand at the pot and suddenly steam poured from the spout. He looked vaguely uncomfortable as he sat down and Crowley was fairly sure he’d heard the entire exchange. “How is your young man, Mr. Pulsifer?”

“Angel, I don’t know that this is the time for small talk about witchfinding mortals. We have a lost Antichrist on our hands.”

“Again,” Aziraphale said, sotto voce.

“Yes, exactly. And look what happened last time.”

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Anathema accepted a cup of tea from Aziraphale but set it down as she looked between them.

“Well…” Crowley waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We got it worked out in the end. All part of the plan.” 

Aziraphale looked at him, plainly pleased. “Yes! Though we didn’t realize that at the time, of course. You see, we didn’t understand what She--” 

“Ineffable. Yeah, we get it. Turns out God was suffering under no delusions about our general competency. We spent years raising some ordinary human child in order to try to get him to turn out...well, ordinary and human, thinking he was the Antichrist.” 

“Did it work?” Anathema’s eyes twinkled in a silent laugh. 

“Well, he and the rest of the shitty, spoiled rich children ended up pelting Aziraphale with dessert foods at his eleventh birthday party, so...yeah. Fairly ordinary. Though to be fair, that magic show _was_ rubbish.” 

“I’m so confused, and yet all this sounds remarkably plausible.” 

“It’s absurd,” Crowley said. “Now can we move on to the current crisis?” 

“I mentioned to Adam that I was coming into the city to buy something for Newt’s birthday, and he asked if he could tag along. I asked if his parents would be okay with that, and he said he’d make sure they were, which at the time I thought just meant he’d ask them, but now that I hear myself say it out loud, he may have meant...you know.” 

Crowley smirked and Aziraphale’s expression was somewhere between admiring and mildly scandalized.

“So we set off this morning, and we talked about meeting up with you two, if you weren’t doing anything.” She blinked. “I mean, if you were around.” 

Crowley leaned back on the little sofa, draped his arm across the back of it and began to stroke the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “Go on.”

“Everything was fine until we were about to get off the tube. We were talking, and just as the train was slowing down, I heard a commotion in the next car. I turned to look in that direction for—I swear—two seconds, and when I looked back he was gone. He just...disappeared. Like...poof!”

“Ah,” Crowley said, visibly relieved. “If he _poofed_, then we can assume he’s not actually lost. You just don’t know where he is.”

“Can he do that?” Aziraphale asked. His brow was still furrowed and didn’t even seem to be noticing the attention of Crowley’s fingers. “I’ve never seen him…” He gestured into the air, searching for a word.

“Disapparate?” Anathema smirked. “Perhaps there was a port key on the train? I did see a half-empty bottle of Coke on the seat next to him. He is eleven, after all. We should check with Hogwarts.” 

“You can be as snarky as you like,” Crowley said, “but the fact is you didn’t call the police, or his dad, did you? You called an angel, and when you couldn’t get ahold of him, your second choice was a fucking demon. You know he didn’t wander off or get nabbed by some creep. He left. Which means he’s confident he’ll be able to find you when he wants to come back.” 

“Athough…” Aziraphale shifted towards Crowley, causing the hand to fall from his neck. “Look, you’re probably right. But what if he _did_ get taken? And I don’t mean by a paedophile. That, I expect he’d be able to handle without much of a problem.”

Crowley stared at him for a moment, and then wordlessly held out his hand. Aziraphale took it, and they shifted forms so quickly that the transformation wasn’t visible to the human eye. 

“What…” Anathema gaped openly at them. “What did you do? And why?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Crowley said, in Aziraphale’s voice, from Aziraphale’s body. 

“Well, you see, my dear, after the events at the air base, Crowley and I--”

Crowley put a hand on his arm. “You’re Crowley, remember? We can’t slip up.” 

Aziraphale nodded, cleared his throat, and said, “That night, we figured out what Agnes meant about choosing our faces wisely. We knew we’d be destroyed for what we’d done, but what can kill one of us can’t do a thing to the other. So we switched.” Aziraphale beamed in a most un-Crowley manner. “Hell was terrified as they watched me cavorting in a tub of holy water.” 

“Heaven wasn’t too thrilled to watch me take a steam in hellfire either. If Gabriel ever ate, he’d have shit his beautifully tailored suit.”

“I’d never speak that way, you know,” Aziraphale said. 

“And I don’t call people ‘my dear,’ but we’re all doing our best here, I’m sure.” 

“Wait.” Anathema held up her hand. “So...you’re worried Adam was taken by...Hell? Heaven?” 

Crowley shrugged. “Take your pick.” 

“And you’ve switched because you’re afraid they’ll try to kill you again?” 

They both nodded. 

“I think I’m way out of my depth, here.” 

They nodded again. “But then again, we all are,” Aziraphale said. “For all we know, this is part of the in--”

“Again, _you’re Crowley._

“--effable plan.” Aziraphale winked. “Angel.” 

Crowley tilted his head and looked his own body up and down. “How’d you ever resist me when I called you that? Anyone else would’ve miracled my pants off centuries ago.” 

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale replied, blushing and covering his mouth with his hand.

Anathema huffed. “Obviously this isn’t the time, but now I’m curious. How long have you two been together?” 

They spoke simultaneously. Crowley said, “Since midnight-ish,” and Aziraphale said, “Six thousand years-ish.” 

“She means in a way that humans would understand,” Crowley said. 

“Oh. Yes. Then since last night.” 

“I guess that explains it. That’s quite a slow burn.” 

“Explains what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“The fact that Crowley can’t stop bragging about you being his boyfriend, and the way your face--yes, exactly, that face--can’t stop doing...that. I mean, it’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but this situation is potentially disastrous, so maybe we could focus on it?”

Crowley folded his arms. “An angel and a demon falling in love and defying Heaven and Hell in order to save the world and each other is _cute_? The cheek! It’s epic, is what it is.” Beside him, Aziraphale sighed happily. “That’s not helping my case,” Crowley muttered.

“Look, can one of you come up with an idea of where to start? Because I’m really worried about Adam.” 

Sighing, Crowley said, “Why don’t you meet us at the cafe across the street? We were going to go there anyway. We’ll get dressed and meet you over there, hopefully with some kind of plan.” 

“Fine.” Anathema got up and slammed out the door.

“You called me your boyfriend?” Aziraphale asked, as soon as she was gone. 

“I know it’s underselling it, but I liked the sound of it when you told me what Uriel said. To be honest, if someone asked me to come up with a word to describe what you are to me, I could search every language that’s ever existed on this planet and still come up short.”

Aziraphale blinked several times, took a breath, and said, “I wish we had time for the crossword before we meet her over there.” 

Crowley nodded and smiled ruefully. “I could stop time for us, if you like. Have to be quick, though.”

“In that case, let’s wait until we can take our time. Can’t erase stardust.” 

“And blood’s a bitch to get out of paper.” He gave Aziraphale a brief but passionate kiss, which was a little weird, considering, and went upstairs to put clothes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely un-betaed, so I apologize for any typos or mistakes I missed.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea, coffee, pastries, an archangel and the Antichrist.

“So? What’s the plan?” 

Anathema sat at a table at the back of the cafe, hands folded in front of her, as Crowley slid into the chair across from her. Aziraphale had gone to the counter to order food. 

“The _plan_? Honestly, woman. It’s been twenty minutes, most of which was occupied with trying to remember how to put on all the layers of this ridiculous ensemble. And anyway, I think we explained how effective our plans tend to be.”

“Crowley, I know you have this whole demon thing to maintain, but I also know you care about people. About Adam. So please, _think_ of something.” 

“Or what? You’ll never talk to me again? That doesn’t work for just anyone, you know.” Crowley closed his eyes and sighed. “I assume you’ve called his mobile.” Before she could answer with the obvious, he asked, “What happens when you do?” 

“Nothing. It doesn’t ring, there’s no voicemail, nothing. Just silence.”

“That could just mean he doesn’t want to be contacted.

“Or that someone doesn’t want him to be.” 

Aziraphale appeared, setting a black coffee in front of Crowley and a pot of tea and two cups down for himself and Anathema. Somehow, he was also able to carry a plate heaped with croissants, pain au chocolate, caneles, and various decadent looking things Crowley didn’t even recognize. Something about being in Aziraphale’s body made food more appetizing, and he suddenly wanted to eat one of each. He couldn’t help wondering what Aziraphale felt in his own body. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale said. “The only way to find out if an...entity...took Adam is to ask someone.” 

“Who? God?” 

“Don’t be silly. Just Gabriel, or Michael perhaps. Or, I don’t know, Beelzebub, I suppose? Or Hastur? I’d imagine he would know.” 

Crowley made a rude noise and said, “First of all, I’d prefer never to see any of them, ever again. Second of all, how do you propose we do that? They’ve cut off all lines of communication, such as they were.” 

Aziraphale busied himself with pouring tea into his cup and said, “Well, we could go and see them. As each other, of course.”

“You can do that?” Anathema asked, clearly fascinated. “Just...go up to Heaven or down to Hell?” 

“No, we cannot,” Crowley nearly shouted. “Are you mad? Honest question. Are you absolutely bloody mad, Aziraphale?” 

“I’m Crowley, remember?” 

“Oh, shut up. We are not entertaining this, at all. You are not going down there again. There’s no way I would allow that.” 

“Allow?” Aziraphale asked, raising his eyebrows above the dark glasses. “What makes you think you can decide what I can and cannot do?” 

“Do you have any idea how terrified I was about what they might have done to you down there? I _know_ what they can do. I know how much they love doing it.” 

“Are you really asking me that question? How do you think I felt watching you go up there? They could have destroyed you simply by accident, if someone was clumsy with some holy water. And I thought it was possible you’d be destroyed simply by _being_ there.” 

“So why the fuck would you suggest doing it now?” Crowley growled in frustration and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. “Angel,” he said, his voice softer but desperate. “Please. I can’t lose you now I’ve finally got you.” 

Aziraphale’s face lost its indignant haughtiness and he returned Crowley’s grip on his hand. “You had me the whole time, you _stupid_ man.” He sighed. “But all right. You’re right, it was a bad plan. I’m sorry.” 

Anathema dropped her face into her hands and groaned. “I feel like this whole thing would be a lot easier if the two of you hated each other like a proper angel and demon.” 

Crowley picked up a pain au chocolate and ate nearly half of it in one bite. “If we were a proper angel and demon, this world would be a rubble heap right now,” he said, around a mouthful amazingly delicious food. If this was the way food always tasted to Aziraphale, he understood his passion for it much better. “Look, I think the best thing might be to just go back to the shop and w--” He dropped the pastry onto the table. “Oh fuck,” is all he could manage. 

“What?” 

“Aziraphale. Still polluting your body with gross matter, I see. And, of course, holding the hand of a traitorous fiend. Not that I’m surprised by that, after seeing all those cozy photos of the two of you.”

Aziraphale instinctively began to pull his hand free, but Crowley held tight. 

“Yes, it’s official now,” Crowley said, gazing coolly at Gabriel and barely even trying to sound like Aziraphale. “We’re boyfriends.”

“Neither one of you is a boy, so I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Crowley grinned. “It’s a human colloquialism, and what it _means_ is--” 

“Hi! Gabriel, right? I’m Anathema Device. We haven’t met, but I recognize you from the, er. The air base.” She shot a glare at Crowley that clearly meant ‘shut the fuck up.’ 

“Yes, I know who you are, Witch. This doesn’t concern you.” 

“Well, I beg to differ. I need to know if you have Adam. Or if not, do you know who does?” 

Gabriel gave a blinding smile that did not come anywhere near his eyes. “‘Adam.’ By ‘Adam’ I have to assume you’re talking about the Adversary, the beast, the son of perdition? This boy is the son of Satan, with the capacity to destroy not only you but everyone on this earth, and you think you need to worry about _him_? Young lady, you should be trembling at the thought of his proximity, and yet you invite him in for milk and cookies as if he’s the boy who mows your lawn.” 

“He even uses American words,” Crowley muttered to Aziraphale. “That has to be a conscious choice. And yet he claims not to know what ‘boyfriend’ means.”

“He does mow my lawn. Trims the hedges too. And I’d like to know where he is. I brought him into the city, and I’m responsible for him. I can’t exactly go back to his father and tell him I’ve lost his kid, but not to worry, because he’s an occult being who can control reality and he’ll be back when he pleases.” 

“As it happens,” Gabriel said, sounding almost as irritated as when he’d told Crowley/Aziraphale to shut his stupid mouth and die, “I do know where the ‘boy’ is. Michael and I have been speaking with him for the last hour, but he simply will not see reason.” 

Aziraphale, who had been doing his best Crowley impression by simply draping himself over his chair and gazing in a bored manner, finally spoke up. “If by reason you mean restarting Armageddon, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.” 

“Oh, we’re way past that. It’s all about containment at this point, thanks to you meddling incompetents.”

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment in order to rein in his anger. Gabriel’s smug expression when he thought he was going to destroy Aziraphale was something he’d never forget, and never truly be able to get past. He opened his eyes and put on his best passive aggressively polite Aziraphale face and said, “Gabriel, why don’t you have a seat. I fear we may be attracting attention.”

Gabriel sat down with an irritated huff. “These people don’t believe in heaven and hell anymore. It doesn’t matter what they hear.”

“We live in this neighborhood,” Aziraphale said with a fairly decent Crowley-esque sneer. “I’d rather they didn’t think we were insane. At present they only think we’re ‘eccentric,’ and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Look. I’m not as ignorant about life on earth as I once was, I can assure you. I’ve been watching it ever since the...incident.”

“Non-incident,” Crowley said with a smirk.

“That’s right, _Crowley._. The non-incident.”

The silence that followed was probably no more than a few seconds, but it stretched like an eternity as the other three froze in place, afraid to give anything away just in case there was some other way out of the situation. 

“I told you, I’ve been watching. Mostly the humans, but don’t think I haven’t caught on to what you’ve been doing.” He held up his hand and began to tick off their offenses on his fingers. “Fornication.” Tick. “Drunkenness.” Tick. “Gluttony.” Tick, glance at Aziraphale. “And let’s not forget conspiracy to defraud the lords of heaven and hell.”

“To be fair, we’ve _barely_ fornicated,” Crowley said. 

“It still still counts. But at any rate, none of that matters to Her, as you’ve probably figured out by now. All part of that fucking _plan._”

“The Ineffable Plan,” Crowley said with a tiny wiggle of pride, pointlessly attempting to stay in character. 

“Shut. U.” Nevertheless, Gabriel sat down next to Aziraphale. p.” 

“I wonder,” Aziraphale said, “if this undertaking his by Her direction, or if you are--what’s the phrase--freelancing? Because I don’t recall it being _written_ that the Archangels should kidnap a child and attempt to browbeat him into...well, I don’t know what, exactly. It strikes me that you are taking this very personally, Gabriel.” 

“Oof, that would be bad,” Crowley said. He leaned forward with a smirk. “That sounds like pride, my friend. And we all know what pride leads to.” 

“I’m not your _friend_, demon. No decent angel, not even a decent human, would befriend a creature like you.” 

“All of you, stop!” 

Two angels and a demon snapped their mouths closed. Every patron in the cafe stopped eating and turned to stare at the furious, exasperated woman at the table in back. Gabriel snarled and flicked his fingers at them so they picked up whatever conversations they’d been in the middle of before the outburst. 

“Let me be perfectly clear. I do not care about the struggles between Heaven and Hell. I don’t care about who feels betrayed, who feels disrespected, or who feels unfairly treated. I am human. This is _earth_, and I have earthly concerns. Such as explaining to the police how I could bring a young boy to the city and lose him on the underground. And I wish the knowledge that he’s with angels was as reassuring as most people would find it, but I know better. He’s not going to go along with you, and he wouldn’t go along with anyone in...the other place, either. That is not where his loyalties lie, and you know it.” 

The remnants of Gabriel’s hideous imitation of a smile fell from his face. “I know exactly where the Adversary’s loyalties lie. You may believe it’s with humanity. But I can assure you that when the final battle comes, your little band of incompetents and traitors will be swept away with the rest of your kind, whether or not you have Adam Young on your side.” 

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Then why bother with him at all?” 

“Shut your stupid mouth, Aziraphale.” 

Crowley had been listening in silence, simply seething at Gabriel, who he considered to be by far the biggest prick in Heaven. But at this utterance he lost all of the control he’d been trying to maintain. 

“If you speak to him that way again, you and I can have our own little ultimate battle, right here, right now.”

“Crowley, stop,” Aziraphale hissed. “I don’t care. It’s not worth it.”  
“It is,” Crowley said. “That’s exactly what he said before he tried to destroy you.” 

“If he kills you, that’s what will destroy me,” Aziraphale replied quietly. “Eternally, remember? You promised.” 

Sneering, Gabriel folded his arms across his chest. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed it. You actually love this foul thing. And more absurdly yet, you think he’s capable of returning your feelings.” He laughed unconvincingly. “You want ‘Adam’ back? Fine. He came willingly, you know. We wouldn’t have been able to take him otherwise. Don’t be surprised if someone else gives it a try, and I have no idea what their power over him might be. If you don’t want to help get him on our side, that’s on your head, ‘angel.’” 

Gabriel disappeared, and in the space he’d previously occupied, a pre-teen boy with shaggy hair and deceptively innocent slate blue eyes appeared. 

“Hello,” Adam said calmly, reaching for a pain au chocolate. “Why are you opposite?” 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, and then around the room. The miracle Gabriel had cast seemed to be holding, so they joined hands and switched back. 

“All those hours wasted practicing that trick,” Crowley said. “We could’ve found a much better way to spend that time.” 

Aziraphale glared at him briefly before turning to Adam. “Are you all right?” 

“‘Course. They only talked to me. It was like going to the headmaster’s office. Just as pointless.” 

“Adam,” Anathema snapped. “He said you went willingly. That means you tricked me into looking away and then you disapparated without telling me first. Do you know how scared I was?” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I wanted to hear what they had to say. I don’t really know a whole lot about who I--well, who I would have been. According to them, who I still am, or could be if I wanted. I don’t know. It’s confusing. But they told me loads more than I expected. More than they should have done, really. They said they’re going to band together with Hell and wipe out humanity so they can start over fresh with more obedient humans. Avoid mistakes like offering free will as an option. And then once the earth is conquered they’re going to betray Hell and destroy them too. But that’s pretty stupid, right? Like Hell is so trustworthy they’re going to keep their end of the deal?” 

Crowley stared at the boy in utter disbelief. “They just _told_ you this?” 

“Yep.” Adam glanced between Crowley and Aziraphale. “Are you two a couple now? That’s what Michael told me. Only she thought it was bad, but as Wesleydale would say, actually it’s a very good thing.” 

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale said, his face doing that thing Anathema had pointed out earlier. “It is a good thing.” 

“The best thing,” Crowley agreed. 

“Well, the _best_ thing would be to figure out how we’re going to get them to leave us all alone. We don’t need them meddling. None of this is their business, not anymore. Not for a long time.” 

“I think it’s time we headed back to Tadfield,” Anathema said. “We can all give this some thought, and then perhaps meet up again next week, when we’ve had a chance to think it through. Next time at my house, all right? Because if you think I’m taking you back to London any time soon, you are sorely mistaken.” 

“I could make you, you know,” Adam said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But I won’t.” 

She pursed her lips and shook her head, not fooling anyone at all with her stern demeanor--least of all Adam, who laughed. “I’ll text you,” she said to Crowley. 

“We’ll be there.” 

When they’d gone, Aziraphale snatched a pastry from the nearly empty plate. “Greedy bastard,” he said, winking. 

“Better make that takeaway, angel. We’re going home.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wants to show Aziraphale what he’s been missing, but Aziraphale is nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for two things:  
1) How long it’s taken me to post this and   
2) For some reason it is impossible for me to write Aziraphale having sex explicitly, so it’s fade to black.

Chapter 5

“Well,” Aziraphale said as they entered the bookshop. “I supposed I should...open for business.” It was a statement, but trailed ever so slightly upwards at the end, as if a question were hiding somewhere amongst the words. He glanced quickly at Crowley and then looked everywhere else in the room. 

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Crowley reached past him and locked the door. “We still have some unfinished business from earlier.” 

“Ah. Yes. We did discuss...that.” He put on a bright smile, but his eyes were clouded. 

Crowley frowned. “Angel? You’re not obligated. You know that, yeah? It’s only you seemed to be getting into it this morning, so I assumed...but we could go for the rest of time without _ever_ doing anything like that again. I--” 

Aziraphale stepped forward and kissed him, cutting off anything he was thinking of saying. “Stop trying to guess what I am thinking,” he said as he pulled away. “I do want to. I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. What if I can’t do it? What if I don’t like it? What if _you_ don’t like it with me?” He wrung his hands. “That would feel awful.” 

Crowley sighed. “None of that’s gonna happen. And if it does, it won’t matter. We’ve been through far worse than that and we might again. Who bloody cares? We’ll be fine.” 

Aziraphale appeared to consider this, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Crowley. “We will, won’t we. Yes, you’re absolutely right, my dear.” He strode towards the staircase at the back of the shop, stopping at the foot of it to turn back to Crowley, who was frozen in place and staring. “Well? Are you coming?”

“Ah, yeah. Right. On my way.” Under his breath, he muttered, “You’re in charge, aren’t you,” which apparently wasn’t quite out of Aziraphale’s excellent hearing. 

“I can be, if you’d like, but I may need to do some research first.” 

Blushing, Crowley shook his head and followed him up the stairs. Honestly, he didn’t want either one of them to be in charge, even as a game. They’d always complemented each other. Balance was the very basis for their existence on earth, and the innate nature of their relationship. Over the years they’d drifted closer and closer, following their own instincts, their own morality borrowed far more from the humans they lived amongst than the kingdoms they supposedly served, until they finally met in the middle. They met at the junction between divine and infernal, where most humans tended to land. 

They reached the bedroom, which was as tidy and slightly frumpy as Aziraphale himself. Just being there made him feel warm and almost too full of feeling. “Do you remember, angel, when we were at the Satanic maternity hospital?” 

“Obviously.” 

“You said it felt ‘loved.’” 

“It did. I suppose it was all the parents and new babies who had gone through there. Or perhaps, the love those nuns had for your dark Lord.”

“_My_ dark--” Crowley had been about to be put out at Aziraphale still talking about him as if he had anything to do with bloody Lucifer anymore, but he caught a twinkle in the angelic blue eyes. “Oh, I see. You’re trying to wind me up. Well, never fear. I’ll make you tingle, darling, and you don’t even have to pick a fight first.”

Looking slightly abashed, Aziraphale asked, “What made you think of that place?” 

“That’s how this room feels to me, that’s all. That was my point.”

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale’s face did the thing again, and it was so pure Crowley could hardly stand to look at it. “It does to me as well, but it never did before last night. It was us being here together made that happen.” 

Crowley walked up close and draped his arms loosely around his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said. He held Aziraphale’s gaze for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him, softly and slowly. 

Rather than tapering off until they broke apart, the kiss grew in intensity. Aziraphale reached up to run trembling hands over Crowley’s shoulders and chest while Crowley worked on loosening the tartan bow tie. When they finally separated, both were panting and staring wide eyed at each other, and the tie was still firmly in place. 

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s hands away from his throat. “Shall I?” 

“For whoever’s sake, yes. Honestly, _why_\--” 

“Because I like it. Would you really want me to change it?” 

Crowley snorted. “No. Would you really want me to stop slagging it off?” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I suppose not,” he said, allowing the slightest hint of a smile to appear as he slid the fabric from under his collar. “I will admit that in this particular moment, being properly dressed is a bit of a hindrance. Though, to be honest, I feel a bit shy at undressing fully in front of you. I realize this body is not exactly the human ideal.” 

“Good job I’m not a human, then. Because I can’t conceive of a creature more gorgeous than you. I’ve never wanted anyone else in my entire stay on this planet. From the moment I first saw you I couldn’t take my eyes off you, and you have only grown more beautiful to me since then. There is nothing about you I don’t love to the absolute fullest extent. All right?” 

Aziraphale looked a bit taken aback, but he nodded and began unbuttoning his vest. “All right. Obviously I feel exactly the same way about you. You know that.” The statement came out as something very close to a question.

“I know it,” Crowley said quietly. “And I feel it.” 

Aziraphale smiled softly at him as he removed his shirt and hung it in the wardrobe. Crowley sat down on the edge of the bed to watch as he continued to disrobe. When the angel was down to only his shorts, he hesitated. 

“I’ve made an Effort for this occasion, but I so rarely do it that I feel unsure. I hope it’s up to snuff.” 

Crowley grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be tickety-boo.”

“Perhaps you might, er…first?” 

“You’ve already seen mine, angel. And I didn’t even do it consciously.” 

“Well, it was lovely,” Aziraphale said. Spots of red appeared high on his cheeks. “Fine.” He stepped out of his underwear and tossed it into a basket by the dresser. He kept his eyes on Crowley as if to catch any expression of disappointment or amusement. “Is it--” 

“Perfect.” Anything would have been fantastic, as far as Crowley was concerned. All he was concerned with was giving Aziraphale a taste of the same pleasure he’d experienced the night before. But as it happened, Aziraphale’s Effort was, in fact, objectively perfect and perfectly suited. “Come here.” 

“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” 

“Sure.” Crowley slid his jacket from his shoulders and threw it in the general direction of a chair. It would have ended up on the floor, but it took a lucky little jump just at the end. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, and then shimmied out of his jeans. “Come sit next to me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow at him. “You hardly ever use my name. Only when something dangerous is happening.” 

“Not necessarily _dangerous_. Important. Momentous.” 

“Well, I hardly see how this qualifies.” Nevertheless, he did come to perch on the edge of the mattress next to Crowley. “We’re already together. That’s the important thing. This is just...well, it’s…” 

Crowley slid from his seated position onto his knees, positioning himself in front of Aziraphale. He raised his eyes to take in the angel’s beautiful face, which had lost its skeptical expression in favor of something new. Something affectionate, but more than that. “Just what, angel?” 

“I don’t—I don’t know. Do you?” 

“I do, but it’s not something I can put into words. I know because I tried that, remember? And it’s not ‘just’ anything. I’m going to show you. Do you trust me?” 

Aziraphale smiled and reached down to cup his cheek. “Implicitly, my dear.” 

Crowley grinned back, with just a hint of demon panache, and began to show him.


End file.
